


I Don't Want To Be Alone

by Strigoi17



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 19:10:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strigoi17/pseuds/Strigoi17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I can’t fucking deal with it anymore — if that means losing you, I guess I’ll just have to deal with it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Want To Be Alone

“I can’t fucking deal with it anymore — if that means losing you, I guess I’ll just have to deal with it.”

His words are blunt around the edges; not sharp, but heavy. They fall like hail, each syllable an echoing, dull thud in your bones. They come quick as your heartbeat; leave like your breath. After each exasperated sentence, you’re left windworn and bruised.

”I TRIED, Karkat! I swear I did! I tried to — to understand your stupid quadrants and cut you some slack and let you knock me around, because hey! I really liked you!”

He’s taken your breath; you’re gasping. You’re drowning.

“But I love you, Karkat.”

You’re dying.

“I love you, and I can’t stay in this stupid clusterfuck of a relationship if you hate me.”

You don’t react. You don’t move, or speak, or reach out a hand, because you can’t. You’re dead; you’re helpless. You aren’t really seeing him, because this isn’t actually happening. You’re dead. You’re not breathing; your eyes have rolled back in your head, and all you can see is John.

He stops pacing, turns to face you dead-on. You have collapsed, it seems, because suddenly your ass is on the floor and he’s staring down at you. “…Karkat?”

“I don’t want to be alone.”

Your voice is small, fissured by tears and weighed down with anxiety. You curl your knees up to your chest, bury your hands in your lap and your head in the space between your legs and your neck. ”I — Please, John, don’t leave.”

With a rustling of fabric and a squeaking of sneakers, he sits in front of you. “Tell me what’s going on.”

You don’t answer. You keep repeating yourself; your mind’s a recycling plant of denial and futility. “Please don’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone. I can’t be alone.”

A moment passes; he doesn’t move. Soon, a hand slips into your self-made castle, and grabs yours. “I don’t want to, either.”

“Please don’t leave, John, please, I don’t want to live alone, John please, God — “

“Karkat,” He stops you with a hand on your cheek. “Do you love me?”

“Yes,” You swallow, breathe in. “Yes, John, I love you.”

Your words are blunt around the edges; not sharp, but heavy. They fall like hail, each syllable an echoing, dull thud in your bones. They come quick as your heartbeat; leave like your breath. After each exasperated sentence, you’re left windworn and bruised.

“I’m not going anywhere.”


End file.
